Everchanging
by charmingly-holly
Summary: OneShot. RH. He asked her what she saw in the fire. She answered him with one simple word, Life.


_A/N: A bit of a drabble really. I realize it's a bit corny, and I also realize that I should be working on my chapter story. _

_But I'm not, so this is what you get._

_Toodles!_

_-h_

_Disclaimer: Don't own it, preciousses_

Everchanging

She could tell you the exact moment that she had grown up.

It wasn't gradual, wasn't slow, wasn't full of mistakes and tears and thoughts of things to come; it was just there. Sudden, quick, but not shocking or upsetting in the least. She had just grown up. Simple as that. Though not really simple at all.

It had been when he had asked her what she saw in the fire.

And normally, before he had asked her the question that had made her cross that invisible threshold separating childhood from adulthood, she could have told him a million different things. A million different lies. But instead she told him the truth in the form of a single word.

_Life_, she had said.

And she knew that he had grown up then too, because he hadn't snorted or looked at her funny or told her she was nutters.

He had just said, _why_? Like he truly wanted to understand.

She was a bit taken aback. He hadn't ever shown much of an inclination to attempting to understand her. It had always been easier for her, and for him as well, to just bicker, to just snipe at each other, take things the wrong way on purpose, pick apart each other's words and find things that weren't really there; to make things not so complicated, not so serious.

And so she didn't tell him to go away or to stop pretending to care or that couldn't he see she was trying to think? She didn't shut him out or yell at him for being nosy or pretend like nothing had happened and pick up her book on Merlin-knew-what and bury her nose in it and silently cry behind the old and yellowed pages.

She just said, _because it never stays the same._

He looked at her then. It was a look of almost understanding, of almost understanding but not quite because something else was in the way. He opened his mouth, making a small sound in the back of his throat like he didn't know how to take his thoughts and change them into words. Finally, he closed his mouth and turned to the fire. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, weighing the options in his mind, before turning back to her and looking at her intently.

_Some things do_, he said.

She was confused, _some things do what?_

_Stay the same_, he said, and his eyes caught hers and the firelight danced across his face and made his hair appear a darker shade of red and she knew then that if she didn't look away that she would burst, and that would only make him run away.

So she looked back at the fire and hugged her knees to her chest, _Not many things_, she said.

_The important ones do_.

She looked up then, sharply, almost hopefully, because she had thought she had heard something more in his words, in the way he had said them, that would make everything that she had thought impossible not quite so out of reach.

Her voice quavered slightly, _like what?_

He stared at her intently, his brow furrowed, his eyes searching, like he wasn't sure what would happen if he gave her the answer. And, for a moment, she was afraid that he wouldnt, that he would change back into his normal self and tell her like the taste of kippers or how Slytherins would always be scum or that Quidditch would always be more important than books.

_Like_, he paused and shifted in his seat, _like the way I feel about-_ he stopped and looked down at his hands.

She stayed still, clutching her knees, afraid to breathe lest it shatter the air and break everything into pieces and drown out his words.

_Feel about what, Ron?_ She whispered, barely letting any breath pass between her lips.

He looked back at her, _You_, he said, _The way I feel about you_.

She stared at him then, wondering if perhaps he hadn't really said those words, if he had in reality said something entirely different and she had misunderstood him, imagining the words in order to survive. But then his hand was covering hers and a flush was creeping up his neck and he was looking at her so intently and so tenderly that she knew that there was no way that this wasn't real, that there was no explanation behind his actions if he hadn't said those words.

_Hermione, I_, he swallowed, _I think I love you_.

Her breath rushed out and her heart turned over, frogs jumped in her stomach and her hand trembled beneath his. He loved her, he loved her and he was telling her and holding her hand and all she could think about was how it wasn't in the books, how it couldn't be explained in words, that it wasn't logical at all so how could she put it in neat and logical order? How could she sort out the swirling of everything inside her into something that made sense, something that could be explained? How could everything change so quickly?

She took a shaky breath and stared at his large hand covering her small and trembling one and understood that the reason no one put it in the books was because they were afraid, afraid of getting it wrong, afraid that if they tried to explain, it would all be ruined, somehow jaded, diminished in its pure and majestic power.

And so she stopped trying to explain it and instead just accepted it. And it was strange because this was the first time in all her life that she had accepted something so unconditionally, without at least a little bit of research, a little bit of thought, without trying to make any sense of it whatsoever. But she loved it, she loved the feeling of freedom it brought her, loved the fact that it was so uncontrolled, that she had no power over it, that she couldn't make logic thought of it.

So she smiled and touched his cheek and uncurled her knees from her chest so that she could turn to face him and experience the thrill of acting before she thought.

_I love you too, Ron_, she said, and she leaned forward and kissed each corner of his mouth and leaned her forehead against his so that she could drown in his eyes and watch the fire burning in them and know that he saw the same in her own and remember that the day she had grown up was also the day she had learned to live.

Fin

_A/N: Right, so tell me what you think. I don't know about the ending, but it's all really a drabble, so I don't know about the whole thing I guess. _

_Also, I realize some of you may think Ron isn't exactly in character, but I don't think he can be called out-of-character either. You may disagree, but the whole thing with this was that they were changing, and that they were capable of not being the normal book-worm Hermione and stupid-clumsy-prat Ron._

_Anywho, just review and tell me what you think. Help me out here, I'm not used to writing anything but humor…_

_REVIEW!_


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